Keeping quiet is one of the most painful things because you’re doing it for yourself not for anyone else. You’re torturing yourself so that you can hold onto that ONE thing in your life that you can control - your voice….
Keeping quiet is almost as if you’re burying it and pretending it doesn’t exist and it never happened but your heart knows different and the bottle can only fill up so much until it spills out…
Keeping quiet (to me) is lying to myself and denying to myself that the past is what it is, making stories in my head and removing the difficult parts from my mind. But a lie is a lie and no matter what stories I tell myself, the past is what it is.
I don’t want to hold back my voice anymore. I shouldn’t have to, so why is it so hard?
The very thought makes my stomach tense up, my heart race, and I can’t help but feel weak but I know in my heart that I am strong enough to say… "This happened to me." but still I am scared of what others will think and the thought of being judged and made an outcast just for being abused and hurt. That’s sad…. isn’t it? We as victims and survivors should feel safe enough to let others in, not scared enough to never tell. But as a victim for many years and still very much a victim in my struggle for better understanding — I have been judged, I have been blamed, I have been viewed in the eyes of my relatives as the enemy and it hurts, it hurts so much. I have begged for understanding, begged for support, begged for them to believe my cries but still they turn away to my pain.
Still, I have those in my life that truly love me and know little of my past but I know they would stand by my side… but still my insecurities win against my strength and I feel weak. I look at those in question and say, "I’m not ready to tell my whole story yet… but someday." and they nod in understanding but with their mind deep in wonder and I can only wonder if they already immediately put the pieces together and figure it out on there own (perhaps I said too much by talking about my physical and emotional abuse caused by my father?) or if every time they look at me they think, "What is it that she’s hiding? Is she messed up?" I can’t help but wonder. I want my voice to be free, I don’t want to wonder anymore about what everyone else wonders. I don’t want to be silenced anymore.
I feel as though I’m locked up still and the key is in my abusers hands. He’s still in control and it’s been three years since the abuse stopped. I feel like a fragile marionette who is being controlled and silenced by my abuser. I now live far enough way that he can no longer hurt me but still my voice is lost, the words only in my head, I can barely mutter the words out loud to myself. Denial, denial, denial. When and where will I find my strength again?
Although my voice is lost, this blog is here to help others, I want to help others find their voice…. in doing so, I hope to find mine.
To those who are going through the same exact pain as I am, I feel for you, I am here for you. You are not alone.